


Not Jealous

by braveten



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Jealous Victor Nikiforov, M/M, and Victor is very in love and very in denial, or the one where Yuuri is dating somebody when Victor comes to Hasetsu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:38:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9414317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braveten/pseuds/braveten
Summary: Victor isn’t jealous.(It’s a mantra engraved in his mind, those three words.)He’s not jealous as Yuuri holds someone else’s hand.He’s not jealous as he catches the couple hugging outside of Ice Castle before Yuuri comes inside to practice.He’s certainly not jealous when he catches the other man giving Yuuri a kiss on the cheek before a competition. Absolutely not. That doesn’t make his knuckles turn white, doesn’t make his entire body stiffen.Victorisn’tjealous.polish





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Not Jealous](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10671798) by [myorphans (GrumpyGayCat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyGayCat/pseuds/myorphans)



> I know what you're thinking: 'hey braveten, why do three of your very few YOI fics have the word 'jealous' in the title?'  
> the answer: i have a problem
> 
> Anyway, this was [prompted by an anonymous user on Tumblr](https://actualyuuri.tumblr.com/post/156187529894/prompt-if-youre-up-for-it-victor-pining-over) who said:  
> "prompt (if you're up for it): victor pining over yuuri who's currently in a relationship w/ someone else?? yuuri turns to victor for advice once the relationship turns rocky as yuuri's SO figures out the feelings between the two of them (but yuuri hasn't realized it yet). eventually, yuuri either figures out on his own or has a confrontation w/ yuuri about the whole situation and breaks up amicably with the other person to be w/ victor"
> 
> And I really liked the prompt so I decided to post it here, too! ^.^ Enjoy!

Victor isn’t jealous.

(It’s a mantra engraved in his mind, those three words.)

He’s not jealous as Yuuri holds someone else’s hand.

He’s not jealous as he catches the couple hugging outside of Ice Castle before Yuuri comes inside to practice.

He’s certainly not jealous when he catches the other man giving Yuuri a kiss on the cheek before a competition. Absolutely not. That doesn’t make his knuckles turn white, doesn’t make his entire body stiffen.

Victor  _isn’t_  jealous.

“You’re jealous.”

He ignores Yurio. Keeps his eyes fixated on the two men on the other side of the rink, sitting beside each other and talking in Japanese. They’re not even doing anything. Just talking. And Victor can’t stand it.

(He’s not jealous, though. That has already been established.)

“I’m not,” he tells Yurio, because if he says it enough times, it’ll be true.

Yurio laughs—it’s pitiful and makes Victor’s skin burn. “Then why do you look like you’re gonna murder the guy?”

He hadn’t known that Yuuri was dating when he’d come to Hasetsu. Not that he wouldn’t have come if he’d known, of course he would’ve. It was just a shock, sort of. Well, not a shock, because of course Yuuri is attractive and nice and possibly all of the positivity in the world wrapped up in one person, but… It was discomforting.

(Discomforting?)

(That’s not the right word either.)

“Look away, it’s getting weird,” Yurio demands.

He does. Then he hears Yuuri laugh and his eyes are glued back on him.

Yuuri had told him his boyfriend’s name several times, probably. Victor knows it, but it’s one of those names that would probably cause lightning to shoot down from the skies if he were to think it or say it out loud. So he’s simply the Boyfriend. With a capitalized ‘B.’

What had the Boyfriend said to make Yuuri laugh? Is he funnier than Victor? Victor had certainly never heard him make a joke before. He bets that Yuuri’s laugh is fake, bets that the joke is fake, wonders if he should get a Japanese to Russian translation book so that he can hear just how  _funny_ this joke supposedly is—

“Woah, Victor,” Yurio says, and Victor glances at him. “Chill. Now stop drooling over him and help me with my step sequence.” He reaches down and takes the guards off of his skates, standing up and glaring at Victor until he moves, too.

Victor licks his lips as he approaches the ice, then stops. “Yuuri!” he calls.

Yuuri looks up. The Boyfriend looks up. Victor purposefully gives him a steely glare, then returns his gaze to Yuuri and softens it, fills it with as much adoration as possible. “Come warm up,” Victor says.

Yuuri smiles and nods. The Boyfriend kisses him on the cheek.

(On the cheek.)

(And Yuuri is blushing.)

( _Blushing._ )

(But Victor isn’t jealous, remember?)

(He’s not jealous.)

( _Obviously._  How dare the notion be suggested.)

Yuuri comes over to him, and his cheeks are still rosy, and Victor watches as the Boyfriend leaves the rink, phone in his hand as he texts someone. He’d better not be texting Yuuri. Anyone but Yuuri. A little voice in his head points out that it wouldn’t really make sense for him to be texting Yuuri, but he shuts it out.

“Are you okay?” Yuuri asks him.

“Fine.”

He raises an eyebrow. Yurio growls for him to come over to where he is to help him do some oh-so-important-thing. Yuuri starts warming up. Victor swallows thickly, tension slowly leaving his body as he grows accustomed to the Boyfriend’s absence. Which is good. His absence is good.

 

~

 

“Are you okay?”

Yuuri looks up at him from where he’s laying on the ice, offering a weak smile. “I’m fine, I just—ow.”

Victor frowns and leans down. “What hurts?”

“I landed on my knee,” he explains.

He lifts up Yuuri’s track pants until his knee is visible and examines it. It’s bruised, but not too bad. “Okay, come here,” he says, helping him up. “Don’t put any pressure on it.”

Yuuri nods and obeys, standing up, leaning most of his weight on one foot and almost fumbling again. Victor wraps an arm around his side and helps him over to the side of the rink, where they sit down beside each other on the bench. “I’ll get bandages,” he suggests before hurrying away.

When he comes back, Yuuri is looking at him oddly. Thinking. His eyebrows are drawn together, his leg is propped up on the bench, now. Victor kneels in front of him and begins bandaging the bruise gently. Yuuri hisses at one point, and Victor’s hands fly away as he stares at him with concern.

“That hurt?” he guesses.

Yuuri nods. “That’s okay, keep going.”

Victor finishes, and Yuuri lowers his leg so that Victor can sit beside him. “There, it should be good as new soon. You’re not skating for a little while, though.”

He shifts. “How long?”

“I don’t know, however long it takes to heal.”

“But Rostelecom is coming up and I—”

Victor raises an eyebrow. “Not a discussion, sorry. You need to heal first.”

Yuuri worries his lower lip with his teeth. “Alright. Thank you, by the way.”

He smiles at him. Yuuri smiles back. Their faces are only inches apart, and it’s distracting, isn’t it, the way that Yuuri smiles? It’s gentle, and there’s this sparkle to his eyes, and Victor can’t take his eyes off of him, is fairly certain that he could live in this moment for the rest of his life. And then the younger man licks his lips, and Victor can’t help but watch, entranced.

“Yuuri,” he starts, but he isn’t sure what to say, isn’t sure what he’s  _trying_  to say.

“Victor, I—”

And then. A voice.

“Yuuri! I brought you lunch.”

Victor turns and sees the Boyfriend, who pauses, glancing between them, confused. But then he’s over his confusion a moment later, walking over to them. “Hi, Victor. Sorry, I figured you’d both still be on the ice. I was just going to drop this off.”

Yuuri smiles and gives him a hug. A hug that’s just a second too long for Victor’s liking. But he’s not jealous, of course. “I landed on my knee, actually,” he explains.

The Boyfriend gasps and examines Yuuri’s knee, as though he’d be able to see the injury from underneath his pants. “Are you okay? How bad is it?”

“Not bad,” he promises.

The Boyfriend looks at Victor.

As if it’s Victor’s fault.

(As if it’s  _Victor’s fault._ )

(As if Victor would ever, ever hurt Yuuri. As if he’d ever want him to get hurt.)

(As if.)

( _As if._ )

“Victor says I won’t be able to skate for a while,” Yuuri says regretfully, glancing at Victor.

“That’s too bad,” the Boyfriend responds sympathetically.

Victor purses his lips. “Don’t put too much weight on it, either.”

“You can stay at my place, if you want,” the Boyfriend offers. “I drove here, I could take you back right now—”

“We can still practice,” Victor interrupts.

They both glance at Victor. Yuuri shakes his head, “What do you mean?”

“We can look over old routines for a while,” he offers. “If you want. Skating isn’t the only good way to practice.”

Yuuri nods. “Okay, that’d be good. Do you want to stay?” he asks the Boyfriend, grabbing his hand and squeezing it.

Victor wants to tear their hands apart, but instead he just sits peacefully. The Boyfriend looks at Victor. “Would you mind? I wouldn’t interrupt.”

(He minds.)

(Very much so.)

But he sees Yuuri’s hopeful eyes.

“No, I don’t mind.”

“Okay.” He sits down on the other side of Yuuri.

Yuuri glances to his right, at Victor, then to his left, at the Boyfriend. Neither of them look at Yuuri, both of their gazes locked onto each other, like some sort of impromptu staring contest. And Victor will not, under any circumstances, be the first one to look away. Despite how awkward this situation is.

“Could one of you grab my phone?” Yuuri asks, then. “I have some videos of routines on there, but it’s in the locker room.”

They both stand up at the same time. Victor had to break eye contact to do so, but he doesn’t regret it, because it’s for Yuuri. And because Yuuri is worth more than a petty staring contest. “I’ll get it,” he offers.

“I don’t mind,” the Boyfriend seconds.

“It’s fine,” Victor insists.

The Boyfriend swallows, and there’s that uncomfortable eye contact again.

His eyes are green. Ridiculously green. Like grass. Victor thinks of the annoying sounds of a lawn mower, because that’s the best insult he can come up with right now. And his hair is short. Shorter than Victor’s. Probably not even _soft._

“Um…” Yuuri starts, confused.

Victor darts off towards the locker room, leaving the Boyfriend there, staring after him uselessly. He grabs the phone and then returns, handing it to Yuuri proudly. The Boyfriend looks mildly annoyed, and Victor considers it a victory.

“Pull up your last free skate,” Victor suggests.

They pause the video at several different times, and Victor points out things that could’ve been improved upon or things that were done perfectly. Yuuri listens quietly, but Victor can tell that he’s absorbing the knowledge, that he’s listening closely. Occasionally he’ll comment back, asking this question or that, and Victor is engrossed in their conversation, in the video.

At some point, when he reaches to pause the video, his hand brushes against Yuuri’s. It’s a simple accident, but it’s electric, and his eyes raise to meet his own. Yuuri is watching him curiously, as if waiting to see what he’ll do next.

“I’m going to go,” the Boyfriend says suddenly.

Yuuri’s eyes tear away from Victor’s as concern crosses his features. “Oh, okay. Thanks for bringing lunch.”

He smiles. A sad smile. “No problem. I’ll call you later?”

“Of course,” Yuuri answers. He stands up and hugs him.

Victor swallows thickly.

(But why doesn’t he feel happy?)

(Shouldn’t he feel happy? He’d been happy just moments ago.)

Yuuri sits back down. The air feels thick, Victor’s throat feels dry.

They don’t start the video again.

“Can I tell you something?”

He looks at Yuuri, and his heart breaks. His eyes are sad, downcast towards the phone in his lap, towards his folded hands. He’s rubbing at one of his fingernails. His lower lip is between his teeth. “Of course.”

“I… I’m going to break up with Makoto.”

Oh.

That’s…

Unexpected?

Victor has never been good at comforting people. Even Yuuri. Even Yuuri, who he never wants to see upset, who he wants desperately to make happy again. But he sits there, useless. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Yuuri looks at him. Victor feels the guilt stab at him. He struggles to find something else to say.

“That’s… That’s too bad.”

He looks unimpressed. “You don’t sound very upset.”

Victor pauses, confused. “I am upset. For you, I mean. Because that’s… Well, it’s bad news…Right?”

Yuuri sighs and stands up, all of his weight on his left leg. “Remind me to never come to you for advice again.”

“Yuuri, wait,” he hurries, shutting his eyes and cursing internally. “Sorry, I’m not… I’m sorry. Why are you going to break up with him?”

“I don’t know,” he responds regretfully.

Victor takes his hand, and it’s a bad time, probably, but it’s not meant to be romantic, and Yuuri seems to understand that, thankfully. He gestures for him to sit back down on the bench, and he does. Yuuri sighs and buries his face in his hands. “What do you mean you don’t know why?” Victor asks gently.

“We were together for a year before…”

(Before?)

“We were together for a year,” he starts over. “And it was good, and I liked him, and he liked me, and I always just assumed that one day we’d get married, you know? It’d be easy. It was sort of like, why not? It made sense.”

Victor nods. He doesn’t really understand, but he tries to. He’d never had a long relationship before, never really felt the way he feels about Yuuri before. Victor had dated, sure, but it was never serious. Never marriage-level serious.

“And then it changed,” he exhales.

Victor hopes, but doesn’t say anything.

Decides to ask, to confirm.

“Why?”

Yuuri looks at him. His hair is falling behind his glasses, and Victor reaches out to fix it. The younger man holds a breath at the touch, silent. Victor pulls his hand back, has an apology ready on his lips like a loaded cannonball. “Why do you think?” Yuuri asks, then.

Victor’s mouth falls open. “I don’t… Is it…?”

Yuuri shuts his eyes, annoyed. “You’re oblivious, aren’t you?”

“I’m… Oblivious?”

“Sorry for bringing this up,” Yuuri says suddenly, standing up.

Victor stares after him, dumbfounded, as he limps out of the rink.

(What had just happened?)

Yurio skates over to the half-wall and leans his arms on it. “What did you do?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ve never seen Yuuri mad before,” Yurio points out. “It makes him less annoying, actually.”

 

~

 

“I’m sorry.”

It’s all he knows how to say.

Yuuri looks at him with sleep-deprived eyes, tousled black hair. “You’re sorry? Victor, it’s  _midnight._ ”

“I know. Can I come in?”

He moves out of the way, and Victor steps inside his bedroom, sitting down at his desk. Yuuri watches him carefully, not moving from the doorway. Like a scared animal ready to run at any given moment. Victor feels sick.

“What are you sorry for?” Yuuri asks, then yawns.

(Oh, so perhaps he hadn’t thought that part through yet.)

“For upsetting you.”

Yuuri laughs a little, shaking his head. “Okay, you’re forgiven. Can I sleep now?”

“I… Yuuri…”

“I broke up with him,” Yuuri snaps. “Is that what you came here to hear?”

It stings.

(Stings more than he expected. Because if Yuuri had given that news to him in the past, he would’ve celebrated, would’ve thrown a party. But now it just hurts.)

“No, I came here to apologize.” And that  _is_  the truth.

“But you don’t know what to apologize for,” he points out. “Or why you’re apologizing, or even if you should be apologizing.”

Victor shifts his weight from one foot to another. “Could you tell me?”

Yuuri sighs and sits down on the bed. He’s wearing shorts, and the bandages around his knee are visible. Victor can see that the side of them had been picked away at. Yuuri tends to do things with his hands when he’s nervous. Victor had caught on to that tick ages ago. “It’s not a big deal, really. You don’t have to apologize—it’s all fine.”

“But I care,” Victor says.

The other man blinks at him, surprised.

“I care,” he repeats. “I’m just… I don’t… I’m afraid of messing it up.”

“What do you mean?” Yuuri asks gently.

Victor sighs and gets up, sitting beside him on the bed.

(Is he about to admit this?)

(No, no, he can’t be.)

(Because Victor Nikiforov isn’t jealous.)

(Never has been, never will be.)

(Except he is, and he was.)

He was jealous because he wants to be the one to hold Yuuri’s hand, wants to be the one to make him laugh, wants to be the one to bring him lunch and make him happy and kiss him gently. Wants to lay in bed with him and watch television shows and order takeout food with him and take long walks with him and do all of those ridiculous, sappy things. And he wants it  _bad._  Wants it painfully bad.

“I care,” he says for the third time, because Yuuri needs to know, and because he’s not sure what could capture his emotions better than those two little words. “I always have. You’re important to me, Yuuri, and I should’ve told you that a long time ago, but… I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“That’s…” he starts, voice trailing off. “Are you saying…?”

Victor smiles a little, ducking his head. “I am.”

“I broke up with Makoto because of you.”

He glances up again, eyes searching, because that doesn’t make sense, because that would mean—

Yuuri licks his lips. “It wasn’t… I thought he was right for me, but then I met you, and I realized that we weren’t. Over time.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Victor smiles nervously, taking his hand. Yuuri looks down at their joint fingers, squeezes his hand experimentally. “Yuuri… Would you… Would you like to…?”

“Victor Nikiforov is speechless?” he jokes quietly.

“I think so,” Victor admits.

“A spectacle.”

Victor hums in agreement, running his thumb across the back of Yuuri’s hand. He thinks about seeing the Boyfriend holding his hand, thinks about the way that Yuuri had smiled at him…

Except Yuuri kisses  _him._

(Him. Here, now.)

(And it’s gentle. Experimental. Explosive.)

(That sort of kiss. That sort of kiss Victor had only ever heard about before, that type that he’d never had, the type that makes his heart leap up into his lungs and that makes his entire body shift forward, wanting more.)

Victor puts a hand in his hair. It’s soft, and his lips are warm, and his leg presses against Victor’s, and his other hand is still touching Yuuri’s, and there’s so many sensations he doesn’t know what to focus on, isn’t sure he can remember how to breathe, isn’t sure he can remember how to think, how to  _process._  Yuuri’s lips open against his and Victor sighs, copying the motion, moving his hand from his hair to his back to lower him back against the bed gently.

“I was jealous,” Victor blurts suddenly.

The words are loud. Stagnant.

Yuuri blinks up at him, confused.

(Yuuri doesn’t understand. Doesn’t understand that Victor isn’t just admitting that to him. He’s admitting it to himself.)

“I was jealous,” he repeats, because he needs to hear himself say it. “And I’m sorry.”

“I could tell,” Yuuri confesses.

He touches Yuuri’s hair, other hand pressing into the bedsheets. “You could?”

Yuuri nods. “You’re not very good at hiding it. Plus, I heard you talking about it to Makkachin once.”

Victor feels the blood drain from his face. He gets off of Yuuri, sitting beside him instead, in shock. “You heard that? I thought… I didn’t…”

The other man laughs. “Um, I was kidding.”

“Oh. Right.”

Awkward.

Yuuri sits up and places a hand on his forearm. “You… You talk about me to Makkachin?”

“No,” Victor lies.

“Does he talk back?”

“Yuuri.”

“You should try a diary.”

“ _Yuuri._ ”

“Sorry, sorry,” Yuuri says. “That’s just… I don’t know. I can kind of picture it.”

“You’re hurting me,” Victor groans as he leans against Yuuri’s bed-frame, glancing over at him to see if the act is working. Yuuri doesn’t seem to believe him, just raising an eyebrow at the melodrama.

Then he seems to have an idea. “Is there any way I could make it up to you?”

Victor grins. “Maybe. I have a few ideas.”

Yuuri kisses him again.

Victor is no longer jealous.

(And that’s the truth.)


End file.
